Can't Tame Me
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Castiel is supposedly a horse whisperer.  That is what everyone calls him, anyway.  This, however, is most definitely an untamable stallion in his sanctuary.  No actual pairings.


They were _not_ going to put that shit on him.

He waved his head back and forth, stomping his feet in warning every time he felt they were getting a little too close for comfort – which they _always_ were. They didn't seem to understand that he wanted them _gone_ and he was willing to trample them to get what he wanted.

Of course, they didn't get that. Humans. Filthy two-legged rascals. He'd kick them in their faces if he thought it would do them any good but he doubted it. You can't teach an old human new tricks.

At one point, a whip got involved. And then spurs. Then they just got downright mean about it. What was their problem? Just let him go and they'll all be happy! Why did they have to be so _difficult_?

He tugged furiously at his bonds and pushed his large body against the wooden planks enclosing him. Get the _fuck_ away! He wanted to _run_, but there wasn't even enough room to turn around and that just made it _so_ much worse for _everybody_.

He screamed as the whip landed hard on his flank. Now they were just getting way too personal!

As he reared back to give his final rear attack, a calm voice cut through the chaos of howling two-legged rodents, low and husky.

His ears perked towards the noise and he slowly lowered his one back hoof to the ground. Some feet behind him, a man was doubled over in pain, clutching his round belly and gasping for air. Good for him. Bastard.

He turned his long head to better hear the creature speaking. He didn't understand the shit humans spoke – some language or another, right? But he liked _how_ the man spoke. Nice voice. Like he didn't even have the ability to raise his voice but he still commanded these humans well enough without force.

He huffed in satisfaction as the whips were discarded and that (_disgraceful_) bridle and bit was taken away.

And then he focused on his hero.

He snorted. He was short. But he looked good, or, at least, he thought he looked good. He wasn't completely sure how to base a human's looks. Really, the only comparison he had was to that one two-legged thing who lived in the middle of a… a… what was it called again? Oh, right. A salvage yard. He would be damned if he could remember how he had ended up there among the skeletons of cars.

That human had been a bit flabby, he thought maybe a little over middle-aged, and had been crabby, definitely. But he had had a beard and kind, fatherly eyes and this guy had something that… _could_ become a beard one day and his eyes were… well, they weren't brown and they weren't warm or fatherly but he sensed he could trust this strange human.

Or at least trust him as much as was _smart_. Which wasn't a lot.

He lowered his head and pawed the ground. This could turn ugly.

But it might not too.

~::~

When Bobby had called him, asking him to take a stallion off his hands ("The damn thing just wandered into my backyard and settled there, can ya believe that?"), he hadn't thought that the beast would be this wild or… magnificent.

Castiel was a supposed "horse whisperer". He wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, only that it implied to him. He gazed curiously up into the horse's unique green eyes. He possibly had a calming effect on horses, he hoped for that to not fail him now. Those were untamable eyes. Muscles locked and quivering, ears perked – not to mention Zachariah recovering from a recent blow to his lower abdomen not too far behind him. This horse was alarmed and ready to run. Most likely, he would try to run no matter the cost to anyone else in the barn.

He couldn't have that.

"Hello," he murmured softly. He raised a hand and watched the horse follow it, watched the horse watch him, and pressed it caressingly to the stud's one shoulder. The warm, restless muscles beneath his palm shivered and the stallion stomped his foot irately, but he knew body language and this horse was not going to stop him if he decided to not move his hand. If he tried to pet him some more, perhaps, but not if he stayed still. "My name is Castiel. Forgive me for the handlers. Not all of them are so terrible." He gave the two men a withering glare. "Zachariah, please see Gabriel before you receive your _final_ paycheck. The same for you as well, Raphael."

Raphael left without much a fight. He had never enjoyed his job here at the sanctuary anyway, to him it was most likely pointless to stay and cause war for something he didn't think necessary.

Zachariah floundered about for a long moment, on the other hand, muttering things about putting the beast down, how he was going to sue, how it was _unfair_. But Zachariah had more than once taken great enjoyment in telling Castiel what was and wasn't fair when it came to his horses and this would be his last time. He would not have horse-beaters on his ranch. He would rather beat the handlers bloody with their own whips first.

"I want to see a _doctor_, not a _vet_."

"There is no doctor on the scene. Gabriel should be able to check you over and then send you on your way." He gave Zachariah what he knew to be a fantastic glare. He had been born with it and had chased away more than the average number of people just by looking at them. Zachariah, after a small pause where he seemed to want to say more, was also chased away just by the power of his stare.

Castiel, feared by humans, loved by horses. He frowned in thought. Was that a characteristic of a "horse whisperer"? He couldn't be sure.

He turned back to the stallion. "What is your name?" The horse, after a small pause, ran his long white tongue over his velvety nose and turned his head in the other direction, as if he could not even be bothered with him. "I will name you then." He thought through the hundreds of names he had heard over the course of his life. Other people, other animals, other horses, other places… pets, pen pals, pet names, nicknames.

It would have to be something short and strong for this one. Castiel pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Dean?" The horse's ears twitched toward him and slowly his peculiar green eyes followed. "Dean," he said more sternly. The horse nickered and nodded his head, as if in total agreement.

Castiel wondered if that was what it was.

Hand still on the horse's – _Dean's_ – shoulder, he patted him. "A powerful stallion, Dean. Let us get you settled in."

Dean whinnied loudly and his back hooves beat the ground.

~::~

He had no clue what the human was talking about.

That didn't stop him from getting a _feel_ of what he was talking about. He swore it was like he was feeling what the human was feeling through his palm or something!

The human's mouth moved and all he heard was senseless babble. He swore, though… The man's voice echoed through his entire body and he was just – it felt _good_! Whatever this guy was saying, it didn't matter. It had to be something at least halfway decent.

Or else every sense he had as a horse was wrong.

~::~

Dean turned out to be his most challenging case, despite their first promising day.

Dean didn't want to be ridden.

Dean didn't want to associate with other horses.

Dean didn't want to work with any of the farm hands.

Dean didn't want to work with the vet (bless Gabriel for trying anyway).

Dean didn't want to do _anything_ unless it was running around in the acres of land Castiel owned. He stole apples and seeds from the other horses, bit the other stallions, hopped the fence more than once so he could copulate with the mares, and generally wasted Castiel's time and effort.

The only time he was ever calm and docile was when Castiel reminded him of their first bond and put his hand on his shoulder.

After a particular night (where he ended up plastered) of watching Indians and Cowboys, that "profound bond" (as Gabriel had teasingly called it before adding some disturbing bestiality innuendos) actually gave him a wonderful idea.

He brought in white paint the next day (and, yes, he was suffering a hangover) and settled down next to the standing horse. He patted his black velvety nose and ran his fingers through his black mane and tail a few times, sighing in despair at the knots he encountered. Dean, his wild child.

He ran his fingers along his yellow coat, stroking his golden cheek. "Are you ready for this?"

The stallion snorted and thumped his back leg.

Castiel lathered his one hand in white paint and slapped it onto Dean's shoulder, holding it in place no matter how Dean trembled and fretted.

When he felt he was done, he pulled his hand away and stared at his own handprint in appreciation. Dean turned his head and sniffed curiously at the mark.

"That is my hand. Even when I am not with you, our profound bond will be. Perhaps through this I can finally begin to…" He frowned. He didn't want to tame Dean. He especially didn't want to break him. No, he wanted to… something else.

Dean turned his large body around and wrapped his strong neck around Castiel's shoulder, dragging him into an awkward hug that felt… amazing.

Castiel chuckled and patted Dean's breast. "Thank you, Dean. I think I needed that."

They separated with a nicker from Dean and then the stallion trotted past him to the field where he disappeared at a fast gallop.

Castiel smiled after him. One day, if not this day, he would get to experience the world from Dean's point of view.

~::~

The mark smelled funny and felt thick and uncomfortable in his fur. It tattooed him as a human's _thing_ like a brand – and maybe it was a brand. It looked exactly like that two-legged rodent's hand. But that hand… and that two-legged rodent…

And that hug.

He snorted and slowed to a stop.

He had enjoyed all of it.

Son of a bitch! He was going tame.

~::~

Castiel welcomed a new horse to his sanctuary. A shire, huge and powerful and… very much abused. The horse took one look at him and shied away, kicking his stall with large hooves that put decent-sized dents in the wood.

Castiel came as close as he dared and traced the scars crisscrossing over the horse's skin with his eyes. He knew the horse's background story – the police chief who had dropped him off had given it to him, albeit reluctantly so.

The horse's name was Sam, and he had had two previous owners. The horse-breeder that had raised him, Azazel, who had been fined for abusing his animals numerous times, and a woman named Ruby. Considering the fact that he had had to deal with Azazel's unfortunate victims before, he could fairly guess that the scars were Ruby's doing. Azazel had been, though cruel, very intelligent and had not left a single scratch on any of his animals. All inside with him. Internal bleeding, fasting, sun exposure – things that, given time, could be hidden.

He had never scarred any of his livestock.

This horse was scarred. Most likely even for life. Yes, definitely for life.

After a few tense moments, the shire snorted unsurely and stepped just slightly towards him.

Castiel blinked. Was this part of being a "horse whisperer"? He thought of the consistency this had with all of his other horses. Most likely, it was. Which was good. He needed that calming effect on this one. There would be hell to pay if this horse went on a rampage.

"Hello, Sam. My name is Castiel." He reached out a slow hand and Sam, after his initial jump back and alarmed scream, touched his velvety nose to the tip of his fingers.

A whinny came from behind him and he looked back to see Dean trotting into the barn, a fine sheen of sweat on his body as he shook his head back and forth like a dog. His tail swished as he danced in place – and Castiel had the faint idea that Dean was showing off and trying to gain his attention.

Castiel chuckled. Of course Dean would want his attention. At least that was _one_ thing he wanted from Castiel. Or one thing Castiel could give him, anyway.

Apparently, however, Dean wanted his attention _now_ and he couldn't do that. "Dean, I am with someone right now. Please come back later." The stallion's ears flattered against his skull and he squealed harshly. Castiel had the feeling that if horses could swear, he would have just been turned red by Dean's language. "Go anyway."

Except he had to amend that in the next moment. Sam was pushing against his door, looking curiously at the other horse.

Castiel frowned and tried to recall if Sam had shared his tortured existence with any other horses. Surely, if Ruby had had more than one horse, they would have been sent to him as well. Azazel? Well, of course he always had more than one colt running around, but, perhaps, those three years ago was the last time Sam had a companion.

He knew he was most likely going to regret this, but he had tried to lead Dean before and Dean would have none of it if it was towards a stall. Sam, at least, had let himself be put into a booth before slowly losing his mind. If Castiel was lucky, he would let him put him back in.

He opened the stall door and Sam, in his first shock of freedom, galloped right through the wooden slab and sent Castiel to the ground. He ran right towards Dean and – and Dean ran outside.

Castiel carefully got to his feet and went to the doors to watch.

Dean nipped and reared at the shire for awhile, coming near close to starting a fight upon occasion, but within a half hour, it was like they had always been together maybe even like brothers.

Dean would trot the premises of the field with Sam following nervously behind, then they would disappear out of sight for a few minutes, and by the time they were near enough to see again they were racing each other. This process repeated itself over and over and over till Castiel frowned and wondered what it was exactly they were trying to accomplish.

Whatever it was, it appeared they were at least having fun.

~::~

Dean didn't do friends.

Sam was persistent though, and a curious little (well, _big_) fucker. For his huge size, he was actually younger than Dean by four years and that made Dean feel incredibly _old_. Eight was an intimidating age for him. He didn't need Sam to rub it in.

"_Where did you come from?"_ Sam nickered and twitched his ears every which way.

"_A salvage yard."_

"_A what?"_

"_Where cars go when they're dying or dead."_

Sam snorted. _"Cars die?"_

"_Guess so."_

"_Why were you there?"_

"_Honestly? No freaking clue."_

They fell silent and ate large tufts of grass side by side. Their tails swished and entangled, parted, swished and entangled, and the camaraderie wasn't actually that bad.

Sam butted him in the side with his head. _"What's with the hand?"_

Dean twisted his neck down to get a look at the paint. Sam lipped curiously at it and Dean kicked at him in warning. It was such a damn hassle to get the damn thing to last, he really didn't need the shire screwing it up for him. _"Back off!"_

"_What's it for?"_

"_It's not for anything!"_

"_Then what is it?"_

Dean _so_ did not want to talk about that. _"Mind your own business, bitch."_

Sam reared his head back and his nostrils flared in insult. _"What did you just call me, _Jerk_?"_

"_I said bitch!"_

"_But I'm not a female dog!"_

"_And I'm not a motion!"_

They turned angrily away from each other, than, in perfect unison, turned back to one another and whickered, _"Mare."_

A tense moment went by and then they were neighing, amused by their own foolishness. Dean nipped Sam's flank and then took off at a fast canter. _"Can't catch me, bitch!"_

"_Watch me, jerk!"_

"_Mare!"_

"_Pony!"_

"_Oooh, that's going _too_ far, Sammy!"_

Sam caught up to him quick and then left him in his dust, snorting over his shoulder, _"what are you going to do about it?"_

Good question.

Dean would just have to show him. And he raced the wind.

~::~

"I'll buy that stallion off of you."

"He is not for sale." Even if Dean _was_ accepting riders… well, he was such a free soul Castiel couldn't bear the thought of separating from him.

Michael frowned at him, giving him a look that quite clearly called him an idiot for passing up such a high bidder. "Name your price."

"He is priceless. You can not buy him." But he could see why someone would want to pay anything for him. He was a beautiful stallion in perfect condition with those beautifully unique eyes of his. Dean could make any rider beg – and he would still throw them off like yesterday's garbage.

"I understand that your sanctuary isn't bringing in as many donations as it once had," Michael tried for a different approach. "Look at you, Castiel. Are those second-hand?"

He looked down at his attire – ratty torn blue jeans and a bleached grey V-neck all beneath a dirty old trench coat. "No. Just old."

"You deserve so much _better_, Castiel. Just give me that one stallion and I'll –" he squinted his eyes. "Is that a _handprint_ on his shoulder?"

"Yes."

"Whose is it?"

"Mine."

"_What_? Are you an _Indian_, all of a sudden?"

"No… but it was inspired by a movie on Indians." And cowboys. Beer had been a large part of it too.

"Is it permanent?"

"No…" He wondered if maybe he should renew the mark. Sam reached out to nip the handprint and Dean warned him off, actually seeming to _protect_ the remnants of the peeling paint.

"So you haven't taken iron to him yet?"

"I have no desire to." Dean was too wild to be held down forever by a patch of burnt fur. This was much better, it made both of them happy.

"Please, Castiel, let me take him off of your hands."

He didn't want that. "No deal, Michael. I want Dean right where he is."

Michael glared but said nothing more. He was most likely coming up with a few plans in that head of his, determining different methods of taking Dean from him despite his opposition. If he had to go as far as to say that Dean was being mistreated, he most likely would.

Castiel did not think for a moment his big brother would play fair with him.

"What's that horse at his side?"

"Sam. He is a shire."

"He's hideous."

Castiel watched the shire throw his head back and neigh before chasing off after the speeding Dean. That was all they seemed to do these days – run. While all the other studs were just idly grazing, they were ripping up the field with their thundering hooves.

Oh well. At least it kept them away from the mares.

"I think he is beautiful."

~::~

That night, Dean got a visit from the human.

He sat down by his side, a familiar can of white paint with him, and Dean went knowingly still. At his other side, because he and Sam had claimed the largest stall for the both of them, Sam whickered nervously and edged away, head bobbing and tail thrashing. He beat the wall with his shoulder a few times before Dean leaned over and bit his jaw.

"_Shut up, he isn't here for you."_

"_He's still human, Dean, humans are _not_ good to me."_

He snorted. _"Then you obviously haven't spent a lot of time with this human."_

The two-legged rascal got down and slapped his wet hand against Dean's shoulder, directly over the old remnants of the last mark. Dean, instead of fretting like he had last time, stayed still as the paint at first itched and then cooled.

When finally the human pulled back – and it flustered Dean to do this, it _really_ did, but he _wanted_ to damn it – he grabbed him in a hug, neck around his back, and nickered softly.

Sam snorted in surprise at the sight and Dean gave him his best glare from where his head was perched near the man's mid-back. _"Shut up."_

"_You're… you're…"_

"_Shut up!"_

The human made a strange sound – like a whicker, except it was, well, _human_ – and patted his cheek. He said something and Dean felt like, _shit_, he felt like he shouldn't be embarrassed about anything. This human was awesome, as far as his instincts were concerned.

He was something else that was for sure.

~::~

Castiel had Dean and Sam in the barn, all doors closed, for Gabriel's visit. It would be the vet's first time meeting Sam, if only because Sam had had his checkup before arriving in the next county and, since arriving, Gabriel had been too busy preparing a mare for foaling. She was too young to be pregnant but healthy getting along nonetheless. Gabriel wouldn't have left her alone if he hadn't thought she could handle the rest of the day by herself.

"How is Jo?" Castiel asked anyway because, between Sam and Dean and the arriving threats of his bigger brother to put him out of business for insufficient animal care, he hadn't had time to check on the mare. She was just a little older than a filly and already she was some months along. Castiel couldn't be sure who the stud was, but he was grateful she had been pregnant _before_ Dean had showed up.

"She's doing great. All excited for her foal, just watching her skip around makes me feel like I'm running on a sugar rush." Gabriel looked tired enough to need one too. He stepped carefully closer to Sam, who fidgeted and danced closer to Dean who didn't seem to care either way what happened. "Is this Sam?"

Castiel nodded.

"By God, he's a beaut." He grinned widely and cooed, reaching out a hand to Sam who immediately reared back and shoved himself full-body into the unsuspecting stallion at his side.

Dean obviously didn't like that because he bit Sam's shoulder and shoved him away with his head.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya. Me? Hurt you? Impossible. Improbable!" Sam held his head high, eyeballs rolling in their sockets. "You might want to take yourself and Mr. Mustang over there out of here."

"Gabriel, what are you going to do?"

"Just a little trust exercise, trust me."

He did. Trust him that was. Gabriel had more than once told Castiel to leave and whenever he came back, Gabriel had another four-legged friend where before there had been only fear. He wasn't sure how he did it, but, like his state of "ghost whisperer", Castiel didn't question it.

He placed his palm over the handprint on Dean's shoulder and led him out the back door into the fields. It required no more than that. Any more than that and it was guaranteed that Dean would fight him the entire way.

He was his wild child after all.

~::~ 

When Dean saw Sam again, he was nuzzling up to that short human – the one that kept touching Dean in places no human _should_. It had something to do with his profession but Dean didn't think of it like that. He thought of it more along the lines of _perv_.

Sam seemed to like him, though. The small pervert offered an apple and Sam ate it lazily from his hand.

Dean turned to his own human and sharp blue eyes met his. The human offered a one-shoulder shrug and then turned back to stare at the new buddies. Dean did the same.

The human said something and then led Dean away from Sam and the pervert. Dean's tail flicked.

Well, maybe Sam was into that sort of thing.

Or, maybe, he'd been bribed with just the right amount of apples.

~::~

Police officers came by his house. Supposedly, he was manufacturing drugs in his barn, using his horses as a cover-up.

It sounded so creative and _fake_ that Castiel was surprised Michael would ever accuse such a thing. But then he thought about it honestly. Michael wouldn't want to be held accountable for threatening Castiel's sanctuary. Most likely, he had paid someone else to bluff for him. Someone who was somewhere he had never been with a name he would never use.

They, of course, left after awhile with an unfeeling apology and Castiel went into the fields where a few of his horses ran up to him and some didn't. He gave them all equal parts attention. How sad, that he felt he was cheating on them. He couldn't help it.

He was looking for Dean.

There he was at the very edge of the boundaries. And there _they_ were, two unconscious men just inside the fence with a horse carrier just outside of it. Sam was calmly at Dean's side, still huge and bulking and healing over nicely from his years of pain.

Dean saw Castiel and trotted over while Sam uncertainly edged around in the other direction.

He patted the stallion's nose and then pressed his hand to the paint. "I never would have thought Michael would try to steal from me…"

The cops hadn't been there to check out Castiel's barn for drugs. They had been there to keep him busy. Had they even been cops to begin with?

He sighed. "I have never before met someone so desperate." It made him ashamed that it was his own brother too. "But at least you can handle yourself."

Dean nickered and shook his head, completely unruffled by his near-capture.

~::~

Dean was watching the short pervert put a saddle and reins on Sam. It was almost funny to see the short shit trying to mount a beast like the shire, and equally insulting because – _fuck_ – Sam was going docile. He wasn't fighting it, wasn't freaking out, he was perfectly content to let the human prepare him for – he shuddered – a _ride_.

Dean's own human (when did he start referring to him as _his own_?) came up to him with a thick blanket. He said something in that low, husky voice of his and Dean felt his apprehension flee him.

The blanket was laid across his back before he realized what it exactly it meant. _Holy fuck, he's going to try and ride me_. Not if he had a say in it.

With little thought he bucked and the blanket fluttered off of him. He made a run for the barn door and – son of a _bitch_! – it was closed and locked. He beat his hooves against it and the bar locking it shook but didn't dislodge.

The two humans were speaking softly behind him, Sam turning his head towards Dean. _"Why are you freaking out?"_

"_I'm not going to be ridden! My back's a virgin, thank you very much!"_

Sam snorted, amused. _"Really?"_

"_Shut the fuck up!"_

Sam's tail swished lazily about. _"Well, uh, someone's going to take that 'virginity' away from you eventually. Who would you rather it be?"_

That got to Dean, because Sam was right. He wasn't in the wild anymore. He wasn't in that salvage yard anymore where the human hadn't cared to ride him. He was… here. And whether or not he fought the human the rest of his life, _someone_ was going to tie him down and saddle him up.

He calmed, just slightly, and the human approached him slowly. He patted Dean's backside and came along his side to stroke his chest. His fingers followed the muscles of his throat and then swept back down to press against the handprint on his shoulder.

The blanket came across his back again and Dean… didn't like it. But he was sure there were worse things.

He looked at Sam, at the scars and the… saddle and reins.

There were definitely worse things in the world.

The short pervert hopped up with surprising grace onto Sam's back and caressed his mane, cooing things into his twitching ears.

Castiel bunched his fist in his mane and placed his other hand along the arch of his spine, just below the hem of the blanket. He whispered something, the tone of his voice soothing Dean's tense muscles, and then he was on his back. From one moment to the next, Dean didn't even see him move to get up, he was just _up_.

And his weight was annoying. Heavy and unusual and he just wasn't ready for it. He reared up, trying to remove him, and Castiel clenched his fists in his mane, holding on as he pranced and spun and dipped around the barn. How he held on so well with an unstable blanket beneath him, he wasn't sure. He just wished he would stop.

Sam whinnied. _"I thought you agreed with me?"_

"_I don't like this!"_

"_Too bad!" _Sam, completely at odds with him, followed the small pervert's lead with ease. He walked to the barn door and waited there patiently. Obviously, they couldn't go out until Dean stopped rebelling. _"I want to go outside, Dean. Don't you?"_

He did. But not with a human on his back, even if it was _his_ human.

But the human kept speaking into his ear, low and dark and rough and his voice traveled along his nerves, slowly dragging the fight out of him.

He didn't go _tame_ exactly. He just stopped defying the human… after awhile. The rebellion was still in there and he swore he saw the human smile as he rested his hand over the paint. He said something again and then his legs around his belly to lead him. He squeezed one thigh and that was the way they went, the other thigh and they turned right.

The barn door opened and they were free. Or, at least as free as they could be with riders.

They stepped out into the fields.

~::~

The moment they were outside of the barn, Castiel… let go. He put his hands securely in Dean's mane and just let his lead go limp. After all, he wanted to experience the world from Dean's point of view, not from his own forced perception.

And Dean, after a hesitant moment where he flicked his ears back at him, took off. Like he was trying to dislodge him except he wasn't fighting him, like he was trying to fly but his hooves stayed on the ground. There was a heartbeat in his gallop to match the one in Castiel's chest, a look in his fiery green eyes to challenge gravity and the wind and everything that stood in his way from reaching the sky.

Then, not too far behind them to begin with, Gabriel was catching up with Sam. Sam, so huge and powerful, was overcoming them with long strides but still wasn't _completely_ getting ahead of them because Dean was born to this and Sam was born for burdensome matters. Gabriel whooped and released the reins, casting his arms back and turning his face up. His legs squeezed Sam's slick sides and he just looked… happy.

Yes, that was the happiest Castiel had ever seen the vet with any of the animals he had ever treated. Not that he didn't enjoy his job – he had admitted upon (many) an occasion that he preferred animals to people. But this was…

Beautiful. Everything was whirring past them and they were outrunning time and space.

He thought to himself, _yes_. The world was more than magnificent from Dean's point of view.

It was everything.

_Author's Note: It's NOT house paint. And, yes, this was inspired by _Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron_. Sorry for the abrupt ending. I couldn't think of anything to put after this. For the record, Michael never did succeed in kidnapping Dean._

_As for Gabriel's secret to pacifying horses… I'll never tell._


End file.
